


This, Right Here

by Bounteous



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, these are literally it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bounteous/pseuds/Bounteous
Summary: Unapologetic modern au with John and Abigail





	This, Right Here

Abigail’s favorite feeling is her boyfriend’s stubble scraping against the sensitive skin of her thighs. And her favorite sight is his brown eyes staring back up at her from where his mouth is occupied with pleasuring her. Each moan of ecstasy is paralleled with a crack of thunder reverberating throughout their small world. Each flash of lightning illuminates the planes of her tan stomach in a brilliant white light. 

John’s hands grip her hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of the bone, as hers tousle his bedhead. It’s a beautiful thing, she thinks, that two people can be so intimate together in an otherwise ordinary situation. Their relationship has never been like the movies; no grand gestures, no flawless or spontaneous sex, no revelations just in the nick of time. Just the two of them existing in each other’s peripheral.

Her head throws back against the myriad pillows, black hair splaying around her like a corona. Blue eyes open to the ceiling of their room after a breathless climax, the silence now only punctured by the pattering rain outside the open window above her. She reaches up with manicured nails, fingertips delicately caressing the sheer curtain fluttering with the cool breeze. 

“Your face always gives away how hard you’re thinking, you know.”

Abigail looks over at John, sees his silhouette sliding on a pair of boxers before tossing her, her panties.

“Just thinking,” she starts, sitting along the edge of the mattress as she slides the garment on, “about how far we’ve come.” She leaves her hair tucked into John’s shirt as she slips that on too. 

“Feeling nostalgic tonight?” The tip of his pen lights a circle of LED as he takes one, two puffs, before blowing a cloud of mango-smelling vapor out the window. 

“More like morning, it’s,” she squints at the jarring brightness of her phone, “almost two.” While she’s at it, she taps the app for their baby monitor to check on Jack. Kid’s awake and crawling around the crib in the dark, but is otherwise fine. 

She scoots back, propping up a pillow and leaning back all lazy and languid and like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be in that moment. John joins her a moment after, splaying his body across the cool sheet and making the soft pudge of her stomach his home. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says nonchalantly as if it’s fact rather than some opinion of a sad, pathetic man.

Abigail snorts unladylike, “Oh, stop it, you. Making me blush and all.”

There they lay under the darkness of the room as the storm outside lets up its torrential rampage. John dozes in his girlfriend’s lap, falling prey to her fingers scratching at his scalp absentmindedly. Things weren’t so good before, he thinks, but they’re pretty damn good now. 

A peculiar, muffled wailing breaks their peaceful solitude, but it’s familiar and frequent and John finds he doesn’t mind it so much anymore. It’s why, when Abigail’s motherly instincts have her immediately tensing beneath his head, he stops her with a hand to her forearm and a soft, “I got him.” 

Jack’s room is a simple set-up of dated hand-me-downs that don’t match and pile of various diaper brands piled in one corner. There’s one small window with broken blinds situated off-center that drives Abigail crazy. He’d poked fun at her when they first rented the place, but now he refuses to admit that it’s begun to drive him crazy too. 

The little man is crying, grasping onto the bars he’d pulled himself up to stand with, and thrashing about, so John goes through the mental list Abigail has drilled into his brain. He knows he was fed via boob not too long ago, so that can’t be it. Pulls down the diaper to see a clean butt, so not that either. Picks him up with gentle hands and is equal parts shocked and pleased that the fussing ceases upon touch. 

Soft arms wrap around his waist as a form presses warmly up against his bare back. He can imagine Abigail’s gentle smile and twinkling eyes as clear as day. 

“This, right here,” she mumbles into his skin, “is what I was thinking about.”


End file.
